


put down your sword and crown

by spacebubble



Series: Quodo Moods Mixtape [2]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: (in that Odo's not entirely sure what his feelings are), Late Night Conversations, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Odo POV, Past Character Death, Pre-Canon, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 03:42:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10778841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacebubble/pseuds/spacebubble
Summary: Odo knows Quark rarely gets drunk, so when he has to throw Quark in a holding cell one night, he makes a point of investigating why. They end up talking for quite some time.(Mild warning for reference to a deceased character never seen in the show.)





	put down your sword and crown

It’s late at night on Terok Nor. Presumably, everyone respectable is asleep at this hour.

Everyone, that is, except for one loudly obnoxious Ferengi bartender and the irritated Constable escorting him to the brig.

Quark’s making even less sense than usual, and certainly making a lot of noise in the process.

(Odo hasn’t entirely figured out what Quark’s repetition of “Rule of Ass-quisition” translates to in Kardasi, but he suspects it’s nothing good.)

After multiple attempts at stern reprimands and reasoning, Odo finally clamps his hand over Quark’s mouth to shut him up. And even then, Odo can feel Quark’s muffled protests vibrate underneath his fingers.

It’s an obnoxious feeling. Nothing new where Quark was concerned.

Sighing, he continues walking the Ferengi down the corridor.

“It’s a mercy Gul Dukat finds you amusing,” Odo notes. “I doubt he would’ve been so tolerant of your recent transmission if he had been sleeping.”

A pained note to Quark’s incessant whining makes Odo glance back down.

Quark nods sharply at Odo’s other hand, which grips Quark’s upper arm in a tight hold.

Perhaps too tight a hold.

“Sorry,” Odo says gruffly. He readjusts the pressure from his fingers and chastises himself for using more force than necessary. He had been thinking about Dukat’s hypothetical ire. He wasn’t paying attention.

Quark makes a relieved sound, but otherwise remains quiet.

Odo wonders if Quark has given up on making a nuisance for now. Or has decided to give him the silent treatment out of resentment.

A silent Quark is a disturbing Quark, but Odo’s not about to risk a further disturbance in the habitat ring tonight, so he remains quiet as well.

They continue walking in silence until they reach the turbolift.

Odo removes his hand from Quark’s mouth as they step inside, though his other hand still maintains its grip.

He watches Quark blink at him for a moment.

The Ferengi licks his lips absently. He has an odd expression on his face as he looks at Odo.

“What?” Odo asks irritably.

“I don’t taste anything,” Quark replies. He licks his lips again for good measure. “Thought I might.”

“Taste what?”

A smile appears on Quark’s inebriated face. “You.”

Odo snorts derisively. “Don’t be disgusting, Quark.”

He expects some pitiful attempt at a witty retort to follow, but Quark doesn’t say anything further.

All Quark does is look at him with that smile.

They continue looking at each other in silence as the turbolift makes its ascent.

 

* * *

 

He deposits the Ferengi in one of the holding cells, then steps back and activates the force field.

Quark glares up at him from the floor, but Odo’s not sure if the Ferengi’s actually seeing him.

Normally Odo doesn’t make a habit of conversing with his detainees more than necessary, but Quark, as always, had to make himself the exception to the rule.

After a lengthy stare, the Ferengi pipes up.

“These aren’t my quarters,” he complains.

Odo sighs. “I know, Quark. You’re in a holding cell. I brought you here because you were drunk.”

“Drunk?” Quark squints up at him suspiciously. “Am I? How would you know?”

“It doesn’t take a seasoned detective to deduce the telltale signs.” Odo nods towards the swaying Ferengi. “Your uncontrolled locomotion, your slurred speech, the way you tried to lick my face when I guided you down the corridor -”

“You say that like it’s an unusual thing, Constable.” Quark gives him a sleepy, flirty smile. “But I’ll have you know, I’d lick your face any day.”

Odo supposes it’s an attempt to appear seductive, despite the many times he has told Quark that he cannot be seduced.

The little reprobate never knew when to give up.

In any other humanoid, such persistence - applied elsewhere, of course, to something less in the realm between harassment and foolishness - might even be considered... admirable.

“Regardless,” Odo says, determined not to think about any quality of Quark’s being any percentage of admirable, “I’m keeping you here until the morning.”

“Why not my quarters?” Quark yawns. “Maybe a house arrest? _Quarters_ arrest?” he adds, chuckling. “You could keep a _close_ eye on me there.”

Another attempt at innuendo. Odo pretends not to notice, lest he give Quark further material for even more ribald comments.

“Gul Dukat and I determined it wouldn’t be appropriate to risk another drunken transmission from you tonight.”

“Well if you really must know -”

“I didn’t ask you anything, Quark.”

“If you _must_ must know, Odo, I was trying to get in touch with a glinn - a very _tall_ , very _handsome_ glinn, if you catch my drift - but I couldn’t remember his name.” The Ferengi rolls his shoulders in an exaggerated shrug, wiggling his head from side to side with a flourish. “Figured Dukat would know.”

Odo sighs. “ _Any_ number of other sources could have provided you with that information.”

The iridescent sheen of Quark’s nail polish catches the light as the Ferengi waves away the notion. “S’fine,” Quark says. “He’s always up this late anyway.”

“Still. You shouldn’t make a habit of relying on _Gul Dukat_ , of all people, to compensate for your own poor memory.”

Quark places a hand over his heart, eyes wide. “ _Rich_ memory, Constable. My memory is _rich_ with detail.”

“Mm-hmm. Details of various illicit undertakings, I would imagine.”

At that, Quark blinks. “Who told you?”

Odo tries not to smile. “No one, but I believe you’ve just confirmed it.”

The Ferengi looks so puzzled that Odo almost feels sorry for him.

But only almost.

“In any case, Quark, you shouldn’t be calling on glinns at this hour of the night, either. Or anyone, for that matter. What’s so important that you _had_ to contact this particular glinn when everyone on the station should be asleep?”

“ _You’re_ not asleep,” Quark notes.

“Because I don’t sleep at all, Quark. You know I regenerate.” Odo folds his arms and glances off to the side with an annoyed grunt. “Possibly everyone in the Quadrant knows, thanks to Dr. Mora’s papers about my development.”

“Oh.”

Odo grunts again. “Then again, I suppose you wouldn’t have known. Science isn’t exactly a priority amongst your people.”

“Well, yeah, but I’ve…” Quark pauses briefly. “Known some scientists. In my time.”

“Have you, now?”

“Lots of details in those papers. Numbers and stuff.”

Odo chuckles grimly. “Simple way of putting it. All the aspects of my life, quantified and reduced to mere numbers.” He tightens his folded arms against his chest. “And stuff,” he adds dryly.

“That must’ve been humiliating for you, huh. All those personal details exposed.”

There isn’t a single note of condescension or sarcasm in Quark’s voice, though it does sound closer to the ground than usual.

Odo glances back at the holding cell.

Quark’s rolled over onto his stomach, elbows on the floor, chin propped up in one hand, booted feet idly swinging back and forth in the air behind him. He watches Odo with a bleary sort of concentration.

“‘Cause you’re such a private person,” Quark continues, tilting his head at Odo. “You like keeping to yourself, Mr. Too Good to Have a Drink With Me.”

“I don’t think I’m too good to have a drink with you,” Odo corrects. “I just don’t drink. Or eat.”

“Oh, right. Or sleep, I guess.”

Odo can’t help smiling slightly. “You would’ve known if you had read those papers.”

Quark makes a face. “Sounds boring.”

He laughs. “Boring?”

“Not because of you.” Quark yawns again, and Odo suspects the alcohol is starting to wear him down. Perhaps the Ferengi’s inebriation was inhibiting his usual energy for banal insults. “All that jargon, the way they write those things. The lack of panache. Nati-”

He falls silent, and Odo looks at him expectantly.

“You were saying a name,” Odo prompts.

Quark brushes it off. “The name’s not important. Point is, I’ve had to read some papers - under great duress, mind you - and I can live without ‘em.”

In a way, Odo supposes this is Quark’s attempt to convey that he’s not about to go looking for Dr. Mora’s research.

It’s strangely reassuring.

It might also be a distraction technique.

Odo steps closer to the cell. “Don’t try to avoid the question, Quark. Why were you trying to contact that glinn?”

“Hmpf.” Quark grunts in a disconcertingly accurate imitation of him, and Odo’s not used to being imitated. He suppresses a chuckle as Quark gives him an exasperated look. “Thought you forgot about that.”

“I haven’t.”

Quark rolls over onto his back and sighs heavily. “Sex, Odo. I wanted sex.”

_Oh._

“From a glinn?” Odo asks.

“Who else am I going to ask?”

No answer comes to mind. In fact, Odo expressly tries _not_ to think about Quark’s sexual life whatsoever. He’s temporarily speechless.

“Figured I’d give it a shot,” Quark continues. “You miss some percent of the shots you never take. Or is it all the percents?”

He doesn’t seem fazed by Odo’s lack of response. Odo’s too busy trying not to contemplate the mechanics required for a… coupling between a tall glinn and the decidedly un-tall Quark.

“All the percents of the shots,” Quark decides blithely. “And this glinn, Odo, let me tell you - the size of his _neckridges!_ Well, you know they say the size of a man’s neckridges -”

“I don’t know,” Odo interrupts curtly. “And I don’t need to know.”

Still unfazed, Quark shrugs on the floor. “Anyway, there’s your answer.”

“Not entirely. You’ve been awake for quite some time, and you were adamant about... contacting the glinn tonight. Why not simply wait until tomorrow?”

Another shrug. “Didn’t feel like sleeping. ”

There’s a shift in Quark’s tone that Odo can’t completely identify.

He peers down at the Ferengi lying supine on the floor. “So you decided to get drunk instead of sleep?”

Quark snorts. “I’ve been drinking all day.”

_All day?_

He waits for Quark to elaborate, but Quark doesn’t.

“For a bartender,” Odo adds dryly, “I thought you'd be better at handling your liquor.”

No response.

That’s odd. He was certain Quark would have attempted a retort of some kind.

Something’s not right about this situation. Odo hasn’t known Quark for very long - mere months at most - but he’s observed enough about the Ferengi to know that Quark doesn’t make a habit of getting drunk on the job. Or in general.

In fact, for a bartender, Quark rarely seems to ever drink much alcohol at all.

He decides to investigate further.

“Why all day?” Odo asks. “Special occasion?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Quark curls up on his side, almost in a fetal position, and stares at the holding cell wall.

“Quark, why?”

The Ferengi remains silent, and Odo’s unsure if he can ask further questions without turning the conversation into an official interrogation.

The silence stretches on, almost unbearably so, and Odo wishes Quark would say something. Or do something.

Anything besides this wretched silence.

He watches Quark’s back rise and fall.

Perhaps Quark’s fallen asleep.

He’s about to step away from the holding cell when Quark speaks up again.

“Anniversary,” Quark says in a small voice.

Odo unfolds his arms. “Of what?”

Quark mumbles something that Odo can’t hear, so he crouches down.

“Speak up, Quark. I can’t hear you.”

Another mumble, slightly louder.

“Quark, look at me?”

The Ferengi complies, turning around to lie down on his other side, and Odo blinks at the sight.

Quark’s not crying, but Odo can’t recall ever seeing a sadder expression.

“My father’s death,” Quark says quietly. “It’s the anniversary of my father’s death, okay?”

“Oh.”

A humorless laugh greets him. “Yeah, ‘oh.’”

Odo sits down. He doesn’t need to sit, but Quark’s still lying down, and it seems wrong to crouch above him at this moment.

He places a hand on the ground, mere centimeters away from the holding cell’s forcefield.

“I’m sorry, Quark.”

“Don’t be.” Quark shrugs. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I’m not fine, but I’m fine, you know what I mean?”

Odo doesn’t, but he can tell Quark doesn’t expect a response.

“So what if I feel like I’ve lost a leg or some other part of myself forever? It’s fine. I’m doing fine.”

_You’re drunk in a holding cell after trying to contact a glinn for sex. Odd definition of fine, isn’t it?_

Odo remains judiciously silent.

“You move on,” Quark adds. “Doesn’t mean I’m forgetting him at all. He’ll always be with me. Even though he’s not. But you can’t go through life being depressed all the time. At least, _I_ can't. So I save it all for this one day a year." He sighs. "Or try to, anyway.”

Odo nods.

A wave of compassion surges within him as he listens to Quark’s philosophizing.

He’s seen Bajorans mourn their loved ones countless times, the rituals, the prayers, the traditions.

But there’s a different melancholy at work here, and Odo can’t pinpoint it exactly, and it bothers him that he can’t.

Something about the juxtaposition between Quark's normally energetic attitude and this subdued version, quiet and sad, lying down on the ground.

He’s observed so much about humanoid behavior and yet he knows so little.

“Odo, say something. I’ve been talking for hours.”

He snaps back to attention. “It’s only been a minute and seven seconds, Quark.”

“Huh.” Quark blinks at him. “Felt longer. You keep track of time all the time? That’s impressive.”

He waits for Quark to compare him to an android, or a computer. Some machine.

“My father would’ve liked you.”

Not the comment Odo had expected at all. “He would?”

Quark nods. “He likes that. Liked that. Having a head for numbers.”

Despite having no reason to feel pride at such a thing, Odo does.

“What else did your father like?”

“The usual Ferengi things. The Rules. Family. My mother, obviously. A fresh glass of slug juice.” Quark smiles. “People with a head for numbers. Hell, he even liked people who don’t have a head for numbers. Like my idiot brother, for example.”

Odo hasn’t interacted with Rom much - not nearly as much as he’s interacted with Quark - but the assessment seems somewhat harsh. “Your brother’s kind.”

“Kind doesn’t get you far in the business world,” Quark scoffs. “Not on Ferenginar, at least. It didn’t help my father at all, that’s for sure.”

“Oh?”

“He was always helping people who didn’t deserve it.”

Odo weighs the statement, considers its implications. “Does it matter if people in need of help don’t always deserve it?”

Quark arches a browridge at him. “It does on Ferenginar.”

“You’re no longer on Ferenginar.”

For some reason, this reply amuses Quark to no end. “Yeah,” Quark laughs, his entire face brightening. “I’m not.”

The Ferengi seems glad to be far away from his home planet.

Odo wishes he had a home planet of his own. He knows so little about his origins.

Unlike Quark, who apparently had a kind father he missed very much.

“You’ve gone quiet again,” Quark complains. “What’s going on in that gooey Changeling mind of yours, anyway?”

The familiar sound of a complaining Quark puts Odo back at ease.

“I’m just thinking, Quark.”

“Thinking about what?”

“That I’ll never know what it’s like to have had a father like yours.”

“You’re lucky,” Quark says, almost brightly. “Then you’ll never have a father like mine to miss.”

Odo chastises himself for being so selfish.

There’s something not right about being jealous of Quark for having such a good father.

The man was dead, after all.

“I’m sorry, Quark.”

“Huh?” Quark blinks at him. “Why?”

Putting the feeling into words seems so inadequate. “Never mind,” Odo replies.

Undeterred, Quark nods at him from the floor. “So what’s your father like?”

“I don’t have one, Quark.”

“Did he die young, too? Because I’ve been there - Ferengi are supposed to live for at least a couple of centuries, sometimes three.”

Odo doesn’t understand why Quark sounds so pleased at the thought of having something in common with him.

It’s almost as if the Ferengi _liked_ him, which couldn’t possibly be the case.

“I’ve never had a father, Quark. At least, I’m not sure if I have.”

“Oh,” says Quark solemnly. “I’ve heard of this. Not on Ferenginar, of course - you have to have a contract to rent a fe-male’s womb - but in other, more primitive cultures, single mothers -”

“Quark, I don’t mean that.” Odo smiles slightly. “I mean, I’m uncertain as to whether I even have parents at all.”

He watches Quark’s browridges knit together in confusion.

“Huh?”

“I was discovered, Quark. Floating adrift in the Denorios belt.” Odo cocks his head. “You would’ve known if you’d read Dr. Mora’s papers.”

“Huh. You’ve mentioned this Mora guy before. Who’s he?”

Odo’s smile disappears. “...No one important. His research remains incomplete, last I heard. I’m still the only Changeling ever discovered in this quadrant.” He laughs humorlessly. “I’m an unknown sample, Quark. My name says it all.”

Quark doesn’t laugh. “That just means the people who found you were lacking in imagination. Whatever happened to naming new things after other things? I could think of a thousand names I could call you!”

A strange new feeling wells up inside of Odo.

He’s never had anyone so indignant on his behalf before.

It feels… nice.

His curiosity leads him to ask Quark, “And what might some of these thousand names be?”

A creative gleam lights up Quark’s eyes. “You’re kind of liquidy inside, right?”

Odo nods. “How did you know?”

“Educated guess.” Quark sits up, animated, waving his hands as he speaks. “Whenever you do the shapeshifty thing, you look liquid.”

“Gelatinous, to be more precise. Though I suppose liquid is a close enough form of matter.” He tilts his head. “What sort of liquid-related name would you have selected, then?"

“I dunno _exactly_ , but something related to water.” Quark sits closer to the force field, so close that Odo’s worried he might set it off, but the Ferengi doesn’t get that close. “Maybe the rain. You’re a little stormy sometimes. Or most of the time, honestly. But maybe you’re more like the ocean.”

“Ocean?”

“Yeah. You ever seen an ocean?”

Odo rolls his eyes. “I’ve seen oceans, Quark. There's plenty of them on Bajor.”

He doesn’t understand why his reply makes Quark smile.

“An ocean storm,” Quark continues. “Maybe one of those terrifying ones that fade into sunshine after they’re over. All storms give way to sunshine at some point.”

Despite himself, Odo’s intrigued by the concept. “There’s a word for that?”

“Duh. Ferengi have millions of words for weather, since we have so many kinds of it on Ferenginar.”

Odo considers commenting on the statistical unlikelihood of a _million_ words for weather in the Ferengi language, but something about the way Quark gazes at him keeps him quiet.

He can almost see the storm clouds breaking over the ocean.

“You should visit sometime,” Quark adds. “I’ll take you. We could walk in the rain. Ferenginar’s walking-rain is gentler than any other planet’s. ‘Course, you’ll have to wait for the spring - that’s the best time to visit - but I’ll know when.”

They both grow quiet as they look at each other, contemplating.

Him and Quark, traveling together. Walking through the rain on the planet.

For a second, it seems plausible.

But who would maintain security on the station?

Reality seeps in, and Odo shakes his head. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Quark.”

“Then ask me to sign a contract,” Quark says, grinning. “I’d be happy to take you to Ferenginar. Haven’t been there myself in a while. Not since…” His grin fades. “Anyway, it’d be easier if I had someone to go with me.”

“What about your brother?”

Quark sighs. “It’s not the same. He always visits Moogie - our mother - and... My mother and I… let’s just say Rom has a much better relationship with her. And I have a bar to keep up. Rom’s not an employer, I am. I have responsibilities, Odo, I can’t just drop them on a whim.”

“Responsibilities?” Odo chuckles. He means for it to sound more sarcastic than it does. “Aren’t you always rushing off the station to find some new lucrative opportunity?”

“Never gotten as far as Ferenginar.”

Odo knows this to be true - from what he’s seen of Quark’s travel schedules, in any case.

And if he thinks about it, he wouldn't trust anyone other than himself to accompany Quark on such a trip.

“I’ll consider it,” he says.

“You will?” Quark’s eyes widen.

“Only so I can learn more about your criminal motivations,” Odo clarifies. “It’s common practice for investigators to compile dossiers about certain suspects. Any number of factors can contribute to a criminal’s psychological profile.”

Quark nods. “Right. Obviously. I am absolutely buying your explanation.”

“It’s true,” Odo insists. “A whole planet full of people like yourself? It’s best not to let you venture there alone. Who knows what kinds of absurd schemes you might get yourself into?”

Quark laughs, delighted somehow. “Can’t hide anything from you, Constable. But seriously, we should go on a trip together.” Quark grins again. “I always wanted to spend more time with you.” He gestures to the holding cell walls. “Not like this, you understand.”

Odo’s about to reply when a loud, lengthy yawn interrupts his thoughts.

He watches Quark lie down on the floor again, eyelids drooping, and it only seems appropriate for Odo to lie down as well.

If only to maintain eye level with Quark.

That’s all.

“So,” Quark says sleepily, “you really don’t know if you have any parents?”

“I don’t.”

“What about after you got discovered? Any adopted parents?”

“No, Quark.”

“How about that scientist?” Quark stifles another yawn. “The papers guy.”

“Dr. Mora?” Odo barely keeps the disdain out of his voice. “Absolutely not. His only involvement in my life was to conduct experiments on me. And even then, those were subpar. I highly doubt he’d make an adequate father.”

Quark looks disturbed. “Is he one?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Odo replies. “And I don’t care to find out.”

He’s never told anyone this much about Dr. Mora before. He should stop.

He looks at Quark looking at him from the opposite side of the force field, and is reminded of the times he’s seen Bajoran couples sleeping on the floor, facing each other in their makeshift beds.

This is the most intimate he’s ever been with Quark.

With anyone, for that matter.

He watches Quark’s eyelids droop again, almost fluttering shut before snapping back open, fighting sleep.

“Odo?”

“Yes, Quark?”

“Is it the next day yet?”

Odo pauses. “It is. It’s been the next day for some time now.”

“Good.” Quark lets his eyes fall shut. “Thanks for keeping me company.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Odo can see Quark’s palm on the other side of the force field, open, almost held out to him.

If the force field wasn’t between them, Odo could reach out and touch Quark’s hand.

He coughs. “Well, Quark. If you’re going to lie down, you might as well do so on the cot.”

He doesn’t hear anything.

“Quark?” Odo asks.

Still no reply.

He stands up and looks at the sleeping Ferengi on the holding cell floor.

It doesn’t seem right to leave Quark there like that.

“Computer, remove force field.”

The field vanishes, and Odo walks forward.

He stoops down and picks up Quark in his arms.

It wouldn’t be appropriate for Quark to waste Infirmary resources for an easily avoidable sore back. Or whatever other afflictions seemed to trouble these fragile humanoids.

He sets Quark down on the cot.

The Ferengi’s hand dangles off the side, almost touching the floor. It looks disorderly.

Odo lightly grasps Quark’s hand to set it back on top of the Ferengi’s chest.

Quark smiles in his sleep.

Irritated, Odo asks, “Quark, are you still awake?”

But Quark just keeps sleeping.

Odo sighs.

It was a foolish impulse.

He shouldn’t get in the habit of touching humanoids while they’re asleep, anyway.

Odo watches Quark sleep, thinking.

He had measured Quark’s blood alcohol level before walking him to the brig.

It was highly unlikely that Quark would remember any of their conversation when he awoke.

But Odo would.

He stays as long as he can, until he has to return to his bucket to regenerate, and turns the force field back on after he steps out of the holding cell.

**Author's Note:**

>  _Whose side are you on?_  
>  _What side is this, anyway?_  
>  _Put down your sword and crown_  
>  _Come lay with me on the ground_  
>   
>  **passion pit** // moth’s wings


End file.
